


Because The Truth Never Dies

by Kitty September (KittyAug)



Series: Kitty's SPN Femslash Bingo [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fate, Gods & Goddesses, Light Angst, Loss, Poignant, Resurrection, Sleep Kisses, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/Kitty%20September
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost moment, of Truth and Fate.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/post/129901548641/kitty-spnbingo">SPN Femslash Bingo: Atropos/Veritas</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Because The Truth Never Dies

The last thing Veritas feels before she dies is two dog’s blood soaked blades in her flesh. The last thing she sees is Dean Winchester’s victory, and the last thing she tastes is the truth of it tangled in the truth of that boy’s turmoil. It’s a shame really, that man, with all his secrets and repression, could have kept her well fed for a long while. Also, dying hurts.

And it’s dark. Truth always did like the light.

The next thing Veritas feels is a hand on her cheek and soft, cool lips on her own. A kiss so sweet it can only be godly. She opens her eyes and draws in a frozen breath. Atropos pulls away soft but sudden, and primly folds her hands back in her lap. Veritas traces her tongue along her lip, chases a lost moment and the taste of ash and snow.

“You’re not Death,” Veritas says. It’s true.

“No,” Atropos says, “I’m not.” And that’s true too. It’s also clever. It’s the truth but not the whole truth. It is an answer, but it doesn’t answer any of the unspoken questions in the air between them. No human would be able to get away with it, but Veritas and Atropos are cut from the same divine cloth, so the partial truths slide between them like silk yet again.

Veritas sighs.

They’re in her bedroom, well Ashley Frank’s bedroom really. Veritas doesn’t sleep, even if the truth so often seems to sleep in this New World. Atropos must have brought her up here before resurrecting her, it is a strangely sentimental gesture. She glances down at herself, she’s dressed in a smart pink skirt, white blouse and, yes, a cardigan and a set of pearls. She looks at Atropos pointedly but doesn’t bother voicing an objection.

“Your golden gowns had blood on them,” Atropos says, unrepentant and unconcerned.

Veritas is tired. Really, bone deep tired - which is funny when you think about the whole not sleeping thing. A contradiction isn’t something she’s used to being, maybe she should get used to it.

“Did you get your hands dirty for me, Atropos?”

“Yes, but not as dirty as you might like.” Even gods can’t outright lie when they’re sitting, however prudishly, on the edge Truth’s bed.

“I should gut those hunters,” Veritas says, with deserved venom.

“I think you should stop killing humans,” Atropos says.

Veritas blinks at her. “Do you now?” she says, colder than Purgatory.

“Yes,” Atropos say, truthfully of course.

“Killing people is all you ever do, maiden-mine.” She uses the ancient endearment as an insult, but it falls short. There’s too much truth in the love of it.

“Not before their time,” Atropos points out, cool and fair.

Veritas laughs at that. Sometimes Veritas isn’t sure if they’re opposites or almost the same. Maybe both. Sometimes the truth is just as complicated as fate. The room is still too cold. Or maybe it’s her flesh. It gets hard to tell.

“And, not you,” Atropos adds, when Veritas doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further recriminations.

“No,” Veritas agrees, “not me. Why not me?”

“Because everyone knows, the truth never dies, even when it’s buried.”

“So that’s it? No sentiment? Just doing your job, huh?” Veritas looks at her hands, her manicure is marred, one glittering nail chipped.

“No.”

Veritas almost smiles. Then she looks up and sees Atropos looking back, almost smiling too. Almost coy.

“Don’t you get hungry,” Veritas asks, it’s an honest question. Her questions always are.

“Not really, people pray to me every day. Lottery tickets, and singles websites, first jobs and near misses, when things go right people thank Fate. And when they go wrong too; refugees on your borders, homeless in your streets, suffering poor and disenfranchised youth everywhere. My sisters and I, we get by.”

Veritas snorts at that, undignified. Goddess she may be but the truth is often unglamourous, ugly even.  

“I want so much more than that,” Veritas admits, looks up at the satin draperies on her ceiling and thinks of once mighty temples and vast festivals, overflowing altars. Vestra’s virgins and Fate’s spinners, the Oracle calling to them both at Delphi, children singing her praises and Atropos amongst it all with her little book and her perfectly folded robes. Mediterranean sunshine and wildflowers in her hair, full moon dances and new moon kisses. “Will we ever do more than ‘get by’ again, Atropos?”

Atropos looks up again at the same time Veritas looks back, and their eyes meet fully for the first time tonight, gazes held as close as their bodies used to be. Atropos' look is so sad and so deep that Veritas knows she might drown in it.

“No," Atropos answers, with a finality only Fate and Truth can have.

Sometimes, Veritas wishes someone who loves her could lie to her. Even once.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [SPN Femslash Bingo - Masterpost](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/post/129901548641/kitty-spnbingo)
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> Please don't forget that kudos and comments keep our little corner of the fandom spinning!


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